When my plane touched down
this afternoon (well, actually it was more like it ka-whammed
down, it was one of those nerve-wracking landings where you stare
fixedly at the ground rushing upwards and hope the pilot can
hurry up and fix the little wobbling issue the plane seems
to be having) I was filled with happiness to be back home; happy
to have had such a good trip; happy to be done with travelling
for a while.

Then the walkway thingie malfunctioned
so we sat at our gate for 932850 hours until someone finally
towed our big Boeing ass to another gate. After that, I was just
headachy and sweaty. And hungry. Airline-provided Sun chips do
not a meal make.

I left O'Hare this morning
and I don't care if I ever see that damn airport again. I'm sure
some of you have no trouble navigating its busy freaking hive,
but I am severely directionally impaired (do not mock the afflicted!)
and spent a good chunk of time trotting miserably around trying
to figure out which damn terminal the stupid United counter
was in because there's no goddamn signs anywhere in the
entire airport.

So, I'm home, and glad to be
here. Dog leaped excitedly at me when I arrived at the house
and center-punched me in my left boob, which was kind of a nice/painful
welcome. Despite the drizzle outside, I have a new appreciation
for the Pacific Northwest and its weather: it is downright balmy
right now compared to the Midwest. Practically tropical.

It was a good weekend. We had
a beautiful drive both on our way to the UP and coming back.
I got to visit with my great aunt and uncle, folks I haven't
seen in years. My grandparents' old house was just as I remembered
it, as were the beach and the woods and the smell in the air.
It felt good to walk along Lake Michigan again, looking out at
that landless horizon. I'd like to go back sometime, bring JB
and stay for a week or two in the summer. It's an amazing part
of the country.

Not pictured: a tasty enormous
meal in Chicago's Greektown, the Mars Cheese Castle, the sheer
comedic gold of my aunt and I trying to figure out how to open
the rental car's gas thingie (complete with trunk-flying-open-action),
my relatives' beagle climbing merrily inside their dishwasher,
a nearly-purchased "Yooper Girls" CD, and five hundred
million billion road-squashed porcupines.

:::

Between Austin and Michigan,
I've had the most amazing past couple of weeks. And frankly,
I'm exhausted. Pass the Amstel Light, would you? And one
of those Sun chips.